


The Watchers

by CatWingsAthena



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Because he thinks he does, Delusional Disorder, Gen, I wanted an in-universe explanation for the voiceovers and this was it, Jack is a good friend, Why does Mac think like he's got an audience?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17863484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWingsAthena/pseuds/CatWingsAthena
Summary: Mac has a secret.Jack finds out.It's okay.





	The Watchers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! This work contains references to a psychotic disorder, and to a brush with drowning if you're sensitive to that. Also, I can't believe this is the first thing I wrote in this fandom--there'll be more normal stuff coming your way soon (probably). The idea just grabbed me and wouldn't let go. Hope you enjoy!

Jack would never have known.

The only reason he figured out there was something up was a single moment, as they were trying to get out of a car that was rapidly filling with water. Mac had tried smashing the window, and that plan had gone bust--bulletproof glass--so Mac was explaining that they were going to wait until the car was almost all the way full, then open the doors and make a swim for it. He was talking about equalizing pressure or something like that, and Jack was honestly kind of tuning him out once he’d finished saying the part that would keep them alive, but then he noticed something odd.

Mac had stopped talking, but his lips were still moving.

Was he praying? No, that explanation sat wrong with Jack. Mac had never been the praying type, and they’d been in plenty of situations that called for it. Probably just talking to himself, but just in case he was trying to say something...

“Hey,” said Jack. “Who you talking to?”

“Myself,” said Mac.

The water was up to their chins. “Now!” said Mac. They both took a deep breath, opened the car doors, and swam to the surface.

And that would have been that.

But later, after they made exfil, Jack couldn’t get an image out of his mind.

Mac’s face, right after he’d been asked who he was talking to.

An expression had flashed across it--just for a second, before he got himself under control again.

Pure fear. That had nothing to do with their situation.

Something about that question had hit a nerve with Mac--and Jack needed to find out what. If his partner had a problem, so did he. It was such a little thing, but Jack had a feeling about it--that there was a lot more going on than some mouthed words in a sinking car. Something was up with Mac. Now it was his job to know what it was.

So, as soon as he and Mac were alone and not in imminent danger, he asked.

“Hey,” he said. “Back in Columbia, you were kinda mouthing some words to yourself, freaked out when I asked you who you were talking to. What was that about?”

There it was again. Fear, quickly schooled into nonchalance.

“It was nothing,” said Mac. “I told you, I was just talking to myself.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve looked like a deer in headlights both times I’ve asked you about it, so I have a feeling there’s more to it than that,” Jack replied. He paused. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But if there’s something I should know...”

Mac had produced two paperclips while Jack spoke and was fiddling with them. He was quiet for a long moment. 

When he finally spoke, it was hesitantly.

“You’d still have my back if I was crazy... right?”

“Whoa, whoa, where is this coming from? Who said anything about crazy?” Jack looked at Mac sideways.

“Just tell me yes or no,” said Mac, with a kind of edge to his voice that Jack had heard directed at enemies, but never at  _ him _ before.

“Hey,” said Jack. “I’ll always have your back. No matter what. And I don’t care what goes on in that oversized head of yours as long as it gets us home.”

Mac visibly relaxed, smiling a little. Then, he froze up again. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself to jump out of a plane or set a broken bone. Then, he spoke.

“There are people... well, I don’t know if they’re people... there are  _ beings _ ... who... watch me. And they can hear my thoughts. And sometimes I talk to them,” he said.

Jack blinked.

“I know you don’t believe me,” said Mac. “You don’t have to lie and say you do. Just... promise me you won’t tell anyone else?”

“I promise,” said Jack. “And you’re right, I don’t think there are any beings watching you or whatever. But I think they’re real to you. And I think--hell, I  _ know _ \--that that brain of yours can make parachutes real in a room with nothing but fire extinguishers and body bags--”

“They were impact absorbers, not parachutes--”

“And that worked out okay for us, so if this is just a byproduct of your brain doing its thing? I’m okay with that,” said Jack.

“Really?” asked Mac. “You’re not gonna... freak out, or say I’m crazy, or any of that? You’re just... cool with this?”

“How long have these... beings been watching you?”

“Years,” said Mac. “Since before we met.”

“Well then, there you have it,” said Jack. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Yeah, except now you think I’m delusional.” Mac cut off with a soft  _ chuff  _ that was almost, but not quite, a laugh.

“So?” said Jack. “Let’s say for the moment you’re right. Tell me about these things.”

“They’re not things,” said Mac. “They’re sentient beings. I just call them the Watchers. They watch me, and listen to my thoughts. It’s not all the time--only sometimes, usually when something interesting is happening--but I never know when they’re watching and when they’re not, so I have to assume they’re watching all the time.”

“That,” said Jack, “sounds very awkward.”

“It is,” said Mac with a slight wince, “but you get used to it. Anyway, I sometimes talk to them--I’ll tell them stories about when I was a kid, or explain what I’m doing, or--” Mac smiled, “sometimes both at once--because I figure they might get confused watching me, you know? I might as well be helpful.”

Jack gave him a look. “You don’t explain things to  _ me!  _ Why would you explain what you’re doing to a bunch of weirdos with an excessive interest in your life, huh?” he asked, mostly teasing.

“Because I’ve also found that talking to them keeps me focused, and sometimes it gives me ideas. And anyway, I don’t think they’re weirdos. I think they’re good--or at least, not bad. And I think they picked me for a reason,” said Mac. “I think they like me. I think they expect a lot from me. I don’t quite know what, but--I try to be what they want me to be,” he said. “And I know, it sounds crazy, but I just... I have a feeling I’m right about this. And trusting those feelings has kept me alive this far.”

Jack looked at Mac for a moment. “That is a  _ lot _ to carry all by yourself, kid,” he said.

“Well, then, good thing I don’t have to,” said Mac, looking at Jack and smiling.

Jack smiled back.

Just then, Jack’s phone buzzed.

“C’mon,” said Jack, looking at it. “We’ve got work to do.”

Mac stood and placed his paperclips on the table.

They were in the shape of clasped hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please let me know below! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day!
> 
> Note for those who care: delusional disorder, like Mac has in this fic, is uncommon in someone so young, but more common in people with "chronic situational stressors", so, yeah. It presents as a clearly false and unshakable belief or beliefs that persist for at least a month, with no impairment in functioning besides that caused directly by the delusion(s). It's also been said that people with delusional disorder tend to be "humorless", which is definitely not our Mac, but, as an autistic person, I'm inclined to distrust any psychiatric professional who declares an entire diagnostic category humorless. I've been on the receiving end of that, and, um, no. Also, Mac's delusion here wouldn't fall into any of the common categories, but hey, Mac's just special like that (waves hand). Okay, psychology nerd CatWings out.


End file.
